


Of awful proms and genius solutions

by Omano



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bickering, Homecoming Dance, M/M, Prom, nothing serious just snark and jibes and Michael and Lucifer in High School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:06:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3271061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omano/pseuds/Omano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One half of the school wants to go with Michael and the other with Lucifer, while the two go so distressed they just end up hiding in a closet from all their fangirls. Locked up they just come up with a perfect solution to get rid of the insistent questions of who they're going to the dance with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of awful proms and genius solutions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ratpenatu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratpenatu/gifts).



> Written for this prompt:
> 
> [shitty homecoming dance AU](http://omano-chan.tumblr.com/post/103035045578/but-consider-these-high-school-aus)
> 
> And Aizu, if you (and by that time I, too) thought that this'll be sweet and short? Check the wordcount again.
> 
> I'm so sorry this turned out so long! But please, enjoy!

 

The door to the art lab tore open, but before with the blinding flash of light Lucifer could pick whether he should pale in panic of having been discovered or hiss in a vampire-like fashion he was engulfed in warm velvety darkness again. As the lock clicked shut (and why hadn’t he thought about that in the first place?) he saw a silhouette for a quick second before the person ducked into a corner of shadows. However, just as Lucifer wanted to scare his fellow schoolmate into jumping through the opalescent window, a horde of other silhouettes skittered to a stop right in front of his hideaway, and the word stuck in his throat. The voices mingling into each other sounded worse than a pack of harpies seeking for eyes to scratch out.

For one impossibly long minute even the air stood still in the closet room. Yet, Lucifer was afraid his hammering heartbeat was loud enough for the whole school to hear.

When the shadows finally rushed away down the corridor a collective sigh of relief shook up the dust and made the skeleton’s airy bones clatter. Next, they even slapped their hands over their mouths in the exact same second. Such sync should be rather disturbing. But then Lucifer finally kicked his brain back in gear. He slowly peeled his fingers from his face and squinted at the figure crouching with his back against the door, the skeleton’s shinbone hanging next to his elbow.

“…Novak?” he hissed under his breath, but even that sounded way too loud.

The other teen flinched; no doubt sharing the worrying thought, but then his shoulders squared and lifted his head. “Milton?”

Oh, glorious! Lucifer rolled his eyes and sucked at his teeth.

“Get the fuck out of here, you tramp! This is my hiding place!”

He swore he could see the otherwise sea-green eyes flash like a lighter sparkles.

“It’s school property.”

“I don’t give a damn! I was here first.”

Michael snorted, and Lucifer hated himself for he could picture in perfect detail those features scrunching up in slight disdain and pompous self-confidence. _Fucking high and mighty noble prick._

“Of course this is as far as you can think,” he hissed back. “Don’t you think, that if I opened this door that’d attract attention?”

For a second Lucifer wanted to snap back, maybe even throw himself at the other and punch him in his pretty face, but then he caught movement of the distorted shadows through the opaque glass. He frantically tried to sign Michael to shut the fuck up.

“… but maybe I’ll. It’d teach you about selfishness and—“

Lucifer opted for the second option, however risky any kind of movement could be in their little hideaway. He managed to tangle his limbs with the other teen’s, which really wasn’t what he had aimed for, and clamped a hand down on the indignant mouth. At their feet Bill, the oversized skeleton clattered in good humour.

When they spotted yet another pair of decidedly female silhouettes in front of the door they both stopped breathing. Even their hearts skipped all the beats for the following half a minute.

As it turned out nothing settled two probably, possibly (especially if they shared more classes) enemies than the mutual fright of being discovered. Soon, they waited in companionable, if maybe a bit tense, silence for the ring of the bell huddled side by side eying the square of false-window suspiciously. Whenever a shadow passed both of them cringed. Those twitches of muscles, too, seemed to bring them together.

“So, what drove the flaming star of Grace High into hiding?” Lucifer eventually asked a couple of minutes after the last shadow had skittered past them.

To his side Michael sighed and stretched out one leg as far as he could. “I really just wish this whole homecoming dance would be over.”

“That’s a surprise. I thought it’s your favourite part of the year!”

“When it’s done and forgotten, yes.” After a short begrudging pause he added, “I’d hole myself up in a cupboard and wait it out.”

It was Lucifer’s turn to snort. “I did see some campaign about Prince Michael running for homecoming king.”

In the soft grey light Michael made a face. It was so pained and mortified Lucifer couldn’t help the flash of teeth as he grinned.

“I didn’t ask for it. I swear.”

“Since I don’t run, you actually might win.”

Michael cut him a nasty glare. “I _certainly_ would win. However, I’m fairly against the objectification of any human being. Myself included.”

“You poor thing.”

Who were they kidding? Michael Novak was the poster boy for their school, the swim team, since he had become captain of it, had won every possible competition and for the first time ever got to the state championship. And if anyone claimed that the teen with such movie star charming smile didn’t enjoy his fame should seek out psychological help.

“Sorry that I don’t want to be a flashy accessory on some girl’s arm at the dance.” Michael said, offended to the bone.

This was all it took to turn the situation into a contest. They were on the same page after all, hiding away from hordes of girls chasing each and every one of their steps. For the past two weeks neither of them could really sit down to have lunch at the cafeteria or have a word with their friends because immediately at least seven girls (and occasionally boys) pushed their way into Lucifer or Michael’s face. It was impossible and truly deteriorating to all kinds of other human relations.

“This obsession with the dance is ridiculous. I was to go with Raphael, but she’s on detention for orally assaulting some girl who didn’t let me be, and so her father wouldn’t really want to see my face around.”

Lucifer chuckled. There was something terrifying about Michael’s best friend, and on several occasions he had found himself on the receiving end of her notorious glares. If someone didn’t take the message by then they were in great trouble on their own account.

“Same with Abaddon.” He confessed. “Suddenly she doesn’t want to go with me… Do you think they’re going together?”

Michael pinched his lips into a thoughtful pout. “I don’t think so,” he answered slowly. “Raph’s going with that Brit exchange student I think.”

“Traitors.”

“Yes. Now I have to explain break after break that I’m not a whore.”

“Wow, such a word from _your_ mouth! I didn’t know you could swear!”

“And I thought you were funny.”

As if a button pushed, Michael started listing what kind of offers had been thrown his way. Of course most of the girls were from the sinfully rich end of society: Naomi claimed that her father was about to buy her another sports car, and claiming how good Michael would look driving a flashy red Alfa Romeo, she offered to give it to him. Some others offered to pay his scholarships. (As if he couldn’t win one on his own thank you very much.) And another offered to get him a tattoo—

“A tattoo? You?”

Well, probably it was only the play of light and dark but Michael ducked his head and blushed.

“Why not?” he mumbled under his breath and shrugged.

“I can’t believe you turned them all down.”

“When every second was an offered date, or a ‘my parents won’t be at home for the weekend and we have this super awesome hot tub’ wink-wink, and a like…”

“Man, you never realize how many people want to fuck you until it comes to bribing.” Michael made a noise in agreement. “What dirty minded people we share school with! But still, rejecting that car…”

“How many times should I explain that I’m no one’s pretty boy toy, huh?”

“Okay, chill! Stop shouting. Besides no one said you were pretty.”

“…And what got the Morning Star into hiding?”

Lucifer sighed. Well, it was time to add his own fair share of awful propositions to them passing the time. As he explained how one girl had offered to go down on him right then in the bathroom if he said yes, and as Michael made a face at that Lucifer grimaced back with an "I know, right? Especially that I wouldn't really get it up in the first place. Not to mention how hideous this offering is."

They sat in sympathetic silence for a few beats before Michael asked, "So why don't you just tell the girls you're not interested in them?"

"Are you kidding?" Lucifer looked at him as if he had just grown a second head. "I wanna spend my last goddamn weeks in peace thanks, not being bullied by those stupid jocks." Then he seemed to pause and slightly pale, though it was hard to tell in the semi-darkness of the closet. It rather came out of as a hiss eventually, "Or the assholes of your swim team."

Michael was a bit thrown between being offended and smiling, so instead he went for nonchalance. He shrugged, "I don't really care if you're gay or not, I have enough problems of my own."

“Yeah, the horde of fanglirls.”

“Who else is hiding from high school girls? Oh wait, _you_.”

Lucifer had to clamp a hand over his mouth. No, no it wasn’t _that_ funny, but God, who would have thought Price I Have a Stick Shoved up My Ass could sass back like that! It was even worth suffocating for.  His muffled choking and shaking only earned him a somewhat fond glare and a poke to the side which sent him toppling over, and the last fits of laughter quivered through his body half-splayed over Michael’s lap.

That got him tense up. Jesus Christ, he just admitted that he was gay, and holy shit, straight guys usually totally misunderstood everything, and fuck Michael’s now going to punch him or what—

But Michael didn’t do that. If anything he ghosted a hand right in front of Lucifer’s face, to which the blond blinked at in confusion.

“I was worried you fell dead on me,” he mumbled.

“Keep dreaming.”

As time went by he still wasn’t pushed away. Michael was totally chill with him sprawling on his thighs (really nice, muscular thighs might he add) while they collectively groaned about the fangirl problem, snickering at the other’s misery.

“Hey,” Michael spoke up just as the next break was nearing. “Why don’t we skip the whole dance then?”

“Charming as it sounds,” Lucifer said, pushing himself up on his knees, stretching. “I don’t want to live in a lab for the rest of the school year.”

“Then I really don’t see another option than going together.”

Lucifer’s face was only a few inches from Michael’s.

“Deal,” it quickly slipped his mouth. But then he squinted suspiciously. “But why would I want to go to the dance with you?”

“We can leave early. We can tell everyone swarming the corridors to screw it. You could go with a guy and wouldn’t have to admit you’re gay, I’m most likely bi, by the way, and you could drive me home.”

“And make me go sober during the whole horror show?”

“It’s not like you could drink there—“

“Please! Everybody knows why we leave Gabriel to deal with the punch.”

“We have a wine-cellar.”

Lucifer sent the other boy a definitely seductive look. This admission came way too quickly.

“I mean, I won’t have company either way, and who drinks alone?”

“So you’d go past the walk you home and maybe share a kiss on the porch kind of date?”

“As if I’d ever want a kiss from you.”

“I was told I’m a really good kisser.”

“Please!”

“I am.”

“Prove it!”

 

 

Two bells later when Ms. Rosen (the highly under qualified art-teacher who spent way too much time sharing the deep values of contemporary (fan)art with her classes) opened the door to the lab she shrieked “I KNEW IT!!!” so loud the whole district heard for sure. The reason of her excitement was the two stars of the school still caught up in a really enthusiastic making-out session just before they practically fell out into the harsh light of the corridor.

(They eventually agreed on the need of further rounds to decide who was the better kisser.)

 


End file.
